New party trick is a success (From Bradford Telegraph and Argus)

New party trick is a success

8:32am Friday 9th December 2011 in Dave Barnett By David Barnett

There is a small child on all fours bounding after me across our kitchen, barking and snapping at my heels. Were this one of my own children I would know how to deal with the situation, but it is not. I am beginning to feel slightly panicky and shout for my wife to help.

My wife is busy preparing curly fries, so I am left to deal with the yapping child on my own, which I do by muttering “good doggie” and gently ushering her towards the other children who are dancing like Ibiza ravers in the living room to One Direction’s That’s What Makes You Beautiful, which seems to be on endless repeat.

It is the occasion of the seventh birthday party of our daughter, and we have decided to go old-school and eschew the current trend for huge play warehouses as party venues, and instead hold the party at home.

We have done this before, regular readers of this column might recall, with less than favourable results. In particular, my carefully planned magic show at our son’s sixth birthday party, two-and-a-half years ago, ended in anarchy as I was beset by a horde (well, seven, maybe) of kids determined to unmask my carefully set-up illusions.

This time will be different, though, I tell myself as I watch and re-watch the 20-second video of my magic show going horribly wrong all those months ago. That was a boys’ party, and everyone knows that boys, like dogs, go feral and adopt a pack mentality when together.

This will be a girls’ party, and everyone equally knows that girls are much more intelligent, refined and mature.

My wife, as ever, has it all planned out. She has organised food, a cake, balloons, dancing games, and is wrapping two lots of pass-the-parcel prizes. It is a pretty tightly nailed-down schedule.

“And, of course, there’ll be the magic show,” I say. My wife says nothing. Our daughter, though, seems to see the pleading in my eyes and, as though prompted (though she certainly wasn’t) asks me if I will perform my amazing feats of prestidigitation for the amazement of her friends.

“Me? Do a magic show?” I ask, ignoring the gut feeling that our seven-year-old is acting out of pity. “Well, I suppose I could...”

I spend the evening before preparing my props while my wife does the useful stuff. The next day, though, all thoughts of magic are gone from my head as the little girl chases me around the kitchen, barking at me.

Then it’s time for dancing, and food, and more games. Then everyone’s leaving. There has been no time for the magic show. I try not to look disappointed, and refrain from offering to do a quick card trick as the children file out of the house as their parents arrive. Still, the party went off fine, everyone had a good time, and nobody cried.

I suppose that’s magic, of a sort.